


Keep On Keeping On

by quiet__tiger



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Joker loves Batman, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 07:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10849080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: After a setback, Joker realizes the answer.





	Keep On Keeping On

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "In Memoriam."
> 
> Originally posted to Livejournal 26th-May-2011.

_Years in the making_.

Their relationship was _epic_. Long and winding, full of ups and downs, back and forth, fun and games and angst and pain.

Years of it.

Delicious and visceral.

And it was _over_.

He hadn’t thought it possible, but somehow it was. The end. As much as he boasted and exclaimed and hollered and acted that he wanted him dead, he didn’t _really_.

Never truly.

But he couldn’t change the facts, go back in time, pretend it never happened.

He wasn’t _that_ crazy.

So what was there to look forward to? What could the future possibly hold?

There were no more games to play, no more fun to be had with his Batman.

What was the _point_ of it all anymore?

He’d been lost and confused, but maybe finally he had made it through the haze of the trauma.

For the first time in three months, Joker visited the warehouse where Batman had met his clichéd untimely demise. Batsy had taken a blow to the head when Joker knocked crates over onto him. As he lay gaining his bearings, Joker had slid down from the catwalk and crept upon the Dark Knight. The gun he pulled out of his jacket was a prop gun. He hadn’t thought he’d need the real one.

But it was the _wrong_ prop gun. It was the gun with the blanks, not the _Bang!_ gun. He’d been in a rush while packing for the heist.

He’d straddled Batman, who was still out of it from the heavy crates. He carefully avoided the belt; he’d been knocked unconscious by it more than once. He stared into the lenses of the cowl, not sure which emotion he should be feeling. He longed to be close like this, but knew Batman would never want him to be. He knew he only had a few seconds until he was thrown clear or one of Batman’s henchbirds knocked him out.

So he looked as deeply into the lenses as he could, and grinned. “Got you, Batsy!”

And he squeezed the trigger, barrel pointed right between Batman’s lips.

Before he realized it Batman was dead.

The blank still had a projectile that penetrated the roof of Batman’s mouth, broke his skull, and damaged his brain.

His precious, deranged Bat-brain.

It was _wrong_ to feel cheated by not seeing the light in Batman’s eyes fade. What was the point of killing if the light can’t be seen?

 _Goddamn cowl_.

But Batman was _dead_ , blood everywhere, puddling and pooling and _congealing_.

Nothing to do but run. If he didn’t run he’d panic right then and there, and Nightthing or the Pubescent Wonder would _catch_ him.

And it had been an _accident_.

For all the games and jokes and threats and weapons and toxins, he hadn’t wanted Batman _dead_.

What was his purpose now? There was no one to _play_ with.

Certainly not to come back to this warehouse. Not to return to the blood stain on the floor. To relive Batsy’s body going slack underneath him.

But he couldn’t stay away any longer. He’d avoided the place because Arkham wouldn’t be enough; he’d be executed for sure. And while he knew he didn’t have a purpose yet without Batman, there’d be a reason for his existence later.

There had to be.

He’d find another Batman. Another yang to his yin. It would never be the same as _his_ Batman. Never _ever_. But it would be something.

Someone.

Batspawn wouldn’t do either. They were too close.

Someone new would come along.

And maybe that was it. He stared at the splotch on the floor and pondered. The best way to honor his Batman was to find a new one and continue playing the game. Joke, counter-joke. Not that Batman ever had better jokes than he did, but he tried. And sometimes one-upped him. Arkham was certainly the biggest punch line of them all each time.

There’d never be a Bat-grave to leave roses on, no memorial card to stick in a scrapbook.

But he could ensure the game wouldn’t die with Batman. And Joker would make it bigger and better. New rules, new violence, new traps, and the new toxin he’d been perfecting.

Gotham wouldn’t know what hit it.

Unexpectedly, Joker laughed uncontrollably all the while as he left the warehouse where Batman died by his hand. He’d never let Batman down, and couldn’t believe he’d even contemplated it.

Let the game continue!


End file.
